


Beastly Friends

by animatedrose



Series: skekTah's Adventures [4]
Category: The Dark Crystal (1982)
Genre: AU to Reality Jumper, Abuse, Animal Abuse, Blood, Death, F/M, Garthim, Gore, Kidnapping, La meets Tah but with a twist, Murder, Skeksis - Freeform, Torture, early POV switches between Tah and La, skekTah is a whouf rather than a Skeksis, whouf, whoufs are creatures from the Legends manga fyi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9068176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animatedrose/pseuds/animatedrose
Summary: A sorta-AU of Reality JumperTah is a runty whouf that is being trained with his litter by skekUng to be attack whoufs for the castle. Expected to fail and die due to how small he is, Tah proves his worth...and also his cleverness in becoming the bane of the Garthim Master's existence. Just when Tah's life is threatened with elimination, the kindly Illustrator offers to try taming the wild beast. Thus begins a close-knit friendship...and a deadly mini-war between a whouf and a Skeksis Beastmaster...





	1. Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Got halfway through writing chapter four of Little Lives when I felt the urge to do some other Dark Crystal writings. Since nothing new has really popped up for Reality Jumper, I decided to jump on something else for a bit to keep churning up my writing.
> 
> I’ve doodled this a few times but now I’m actually sticking some writing to it. This is technically an AU to Reality Jumper…yet it’s its own thing. Just another Tah-meets-La scenario…with a twist.
> 
> Pain Maker = skekNa  
> Shiny Eye = skekTek  
> Unknown = skekUng
> 
> Whouf!Tah belongs to me. No stealing!  
> skekLa and her AU belong to her, skekKel, and their fellow RPers over on deviantART. I just play in their world for fun.

The day the monsters come, he is only a few days old.

He is alert, can see, and can walk unsteadily on his tiny paws. He is the smallest of his litter, the runt of seven whouf pups. Mother is stern but caring. Father is brave and fierce. His siblings vary but all have the advantage in size, muscling him away when it’s time to eat.

He hears the monsters long before his pack sees them. The trees shake and fall, ripping up the earth and exposing the underground den he has known all his life. Mother gathers them all to her and hovers, snarling and barking. Father races into the open with the other whoufs, ready for battle.

The monsters kill Father, smacking him aside into a tree with a sickening sound of broken bone. Many others in the pack are slain in their attack.

Then the monsters start tearing into the den sites, snatching pups and mothers. Most of the adults are dead. Those that survive slink into the forest, never to return. Lifelong mates are torn apart. Many pups are crushed when they are grabbed between the monsters’ claws.

One of the monsters, huge and black with no fur and piercing purple eyes, looms over his family’s exposed den. He watches as a huge claw grabs Mother, hauling her high up. She snarls and howls, kicking. The monster throws her over its head, out of sight.

Then it moves in to seize him and his litter.

The monster stops moving. Something is yelling. There is another creature in their home.

Another monster, this one smaller but no less menacing than the rest, stalks into the den site. It is short and scrawny, like a living tree with no leaves. It gesticulates violently at the other monsters, gesturing to the dead whoufs on the ground. It sounds very angry.

The first monster steps away from his den site. He sees the opening and moves to crawl out, only for the other monster to loom over him. It is huge and also has no fur, its skin flapping in many thin layers over its hunchbacked frame. He squeaks and tumbles back into the den, landing atop his cowering siblings.

The other monster growls before reaching in, snatching his siblings up one-by one. The first monster turns around to display a strange growth on its back full of holes. Whoufs are inside of it, clawing and barking, trying to get at the opening at the top.

Mother is inside! She is alive!

 _Run, my pups! Run!_ she cries, shaking the growth she is trapped in.

But there is nowhere to run.

His siblings are plunged into a brown skin that the smaller monster has produced. He is the last to be grabbed. The monster looks him over and snorts before shoving him into the skin. He topples among his siblings and cries for help.

Nobody answers them.

Nobody comes to save them.

.o.o.o.o.

When the skin is opened and they can escape, it is dark. Everything is dark, only waving orange lights on the walls casting light. They are underground, the thick scent of stone and earth surrounding them. It is some kind of sealed stone den.

Mother gathers them to her, checking them over. Two of his siblings are dead, one having been crushed in the first monster’s claws and the other having been squished beneath his siblings in the skin. None of them look very well.

There are other mothers and pups here in this dark den. There are no fathers. No grandfathers or uncles or aunts. Just mothers and pups.

 _Stay close to me. Do not stray,_ Mother orders. _I smell death here._

He and his siblings obey. No pup strays from their mother. They huddle together in one big mass, pups at the center, mothers on the edge. They are united, of one pack, of one purpose—defend the pups, defend the future.

The den opens and one of the smaller monsters appear. It is flanked by two others. They all home in on the mass of mothers and pups.

Mother is the first to rise and snarl. The other mothers join her, hackles raised, teeth bared in a show of violence. They are ready to kill or be killed. They will die fighting.

One of the monsters lurches back. The other two make strange noises, looking at each other. Then one—the one from home, the one that stuffed them in the skin—pulls out a long, thin thing and approaches.

A mother shrieks as it hits her, leaving a dark welt across her shoulders. Another mother is struck, then another. Mother hunkers down, pressing atop him and his siblings in a show of defense. The ring of mothers falls back, hovering over pups to defend them from the sting of the monster’s weapon.

The monster—Pain Maker, he labels the monster—cackles, waving the painful thing over its head. One of its companions, the one with a shining eye, approaches now. Mother bares her teeth but does not rise. The other mothers follow her example.

The painful thing strikes Mother across the face. She yelps, rearing back and exposing her pups.

He squeaks in terror. Shiny Eye is too close! It’s looking right at him!

But Shiny Eye doesn’t touch them. Its eyes scan over them and then move on to the next mother. It does this with each mother, who is sent lurching away from her pups by Pain Maker. It never touches, just looks.

He doesn’t understand. What does it want with them?

And all the while, the third one just watches from deeper in the den. It makes no move toward the whoufs. It just watches.

This, he considers the most terrifying. Pain Maker hurts. Shiny Eye looks. But this third one does nothing at all, nothing worth labeling.

It is big, bigger than its two companions. Its skins are brighter colored and it carries a huge claw at its side. It watches the mothers and pups with its big red eyes.

He has no other label for it but Unknown.

Shiny Eye finishes looking and returns to Unknown’s side. Pain Maker follows, coiling the painful thing up and snarling at the mothers as it leaves. All three leave the den behind.

Mother swipes her tongue over the welt of another mother. The ring rotates, licking wounds and counting pups. Nobody is missing. They are all still alive.

.o.o.o.o.

They continue to remain alive for what Mother guesses is several weeks.

Shiny Eye and Pain Maker visit frequently, performing the same routine they did that first day. The mothers quickly learn to expose their pups when the duo comes in, lest Pain Maker strike them with its weapon. Shiny Eye never touches, just looks.

The pups are growing quickly, their fur thickening into the thick brown quills that cover the whoufs’ body. These are generally soft and used for insulation and intimidation.

His are not. His are sharp on the edges. He has cut his siblings and Mother more than once as his quills grew in. Even light nuzzles left bleeding cuts on his fellow pups. Mother has stopped bathing him to avoid cutting her tongue.

Unknown hasn’t returned since that day. He wonders if Unknown ever will.

They are provided with food, water, and nesting material. The den has been fully explored. There is no escape from it except through the entrance that the monsters control. Nobody dares to try using it.

It stinks of death and decay there. Nobody wants to see what lies beyond it.

They have stopped nursing and have moved on to the harder foods that the mothers eat. It tastes gross but it must do. The monsters will feed them nothing else. Mother insists they eat and grow strong.

So they do.

.o.o.o.o.

The day Unknown returns to the den is the day everything changes.

Shiny Eye and Pain Maker are with it. They stand back while Unknown approaches. The mothers huddle up, growling.

The pups mimic their mothers, lips peeling back to show off their needle-sharp teeth. They are no longer the tiny pups they once were. They are vicious miniatures of their mothers. They are ready to kill or be killed.

Unknown bellows and the mothers cower. The pups lose their nerve, diving behind their mothers and squeaking in terror. Their bravery is lost in an instant.

Unknown’s mouth widens. He bellows again before lurching forward. One of his siblings is grabbed, held aloft by the scruff. Mother snarls and lunges, only to be struck and thrown aside. Unknown snorts and marches away, holding the captured whouf pup.

The trio leaves with his sibling. The pack never sees the pup again.

.o.o.o.o.

Pups are taken in droves. A mother is taken too. Unknown takes who it wants and never returns anyone. Any whouf that leaves the den never comes back.

Most of his siblings are gone. Most of the pups are gone. This leaves the mothers distressed, huddling together in a pile of whining misery.

Mother keeps him and his sister close. They are all that remain of her litter. She does not permit them to leave her.

He resolves to not let Unknown take them.

He breaks that promise the following morning with Unknown’s claws in his scruff, his sister wailing beside him as they are carried from the den. Behind him, he hears Mother howl mournfully.

He doesn’t see Mother again for a very long time.


	2. Hello

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First two chapters are in Tah's POV, so apologies if things are described strangely. We'll get to La's POV in chapter 3. That should better explain things.
> 
> skekLa belongs to SkekLa over on deviantART.

Unknown drops them roughly in another big den. It is just as dark and cold as the one they had previously been in. The difference was the overwhelming stench of fear, blood, and death.

And the pups. He can see many that were taken here. They do not look good. Many bear scars. One has lost an ear. There is no sign of the others or the taken mother.

 _Where are we?_ He asks, huddling close to his sister.

Nobody answers him. They all cower in a mass until Unknown bellows. Then they rise as a unit and surge forward to a strange black mark on the ground. Not sure what else to do, he follows with his sister in tow.

Unknown is barking and snarling. He watches, unsure of what all the noise means. Fear scent is heavy in the air.

Unknown steps aside and roars, pointing to the far side of the den. The pups charge. Frightened, he chases them.

A monster! The hairless black monsters are here!

Two pups are crushed in front of him instantly. Another is flattened beneath a falling rock that a monster pitches from above. Sharp, shiny objects whiz back and forth. Fire surges from gaps in the ground. It is chaos. He cannot comprehend what is going on around him.

Death. This must be the road to death. There can be no other description that fit this place.

Where is his sister? He cannot find her. Is she alive? Dead?

There is no time to search for her. A monster lunges at him, claws catching his quills. He yelps and dives away, darting around it. He struggles to see where the other pups are going. Perhaps they can guide him from this place.

A black mark on the ground, near the opposite den wall, is their destination. He races for it, dodging around whizzing blades and scorching fire. A few pups have already crossed, battered and bleeding.

He never sees the monster at his right until he is flattened to the ground beneath its claw. Pulled into the sky, he is shaken roughly in its big, black claws. He yelps, biting and kicking. There must be a way out!

A loud howl signals an attack by another whouf. Teeth encircle the monster’s claw. Paws pound around its spidery legs, ramming and biting and clawing. The monster clicks and hisses before dropping him, swiping pups from its legs.

There is no time to thank his fellows. Only time to run.

And run he does, straight over that black mark and into safety.

He collapses in a heap, gasps escaping his open jaws. A few more pups cross the line, all of them in a bad way. Nobody has crossed unscathed. Everybody bears gashes and bloody patches on their fur.

Minutes pass before the noise dies down. He lifts his snout to stare dumbfounded at the path they had run through.

Pups lay strewn about, some crushed, others having bled out from the blades. Death’s pungent odor rules that path. The monsters withdraw, purple eyes fading as they become statue still against the den walls.

Unknown moves about the path, growling. Pain Maker collects the bodies, piling them up. Shiny Eye looks at the survivors.

He is only interested in one thing—the tiny body huddled just past the black mark at the start of the path.

It’s his sister, her tiny spine broken. She died only seconds after trying to pursue him. She hadn’t stood a chance.

Her body is dropped atop the pile of whouf corpses. A snap of Pain Maker’s weapon forces the survivors into small enclosed dens made of a hard gray substance. When he tries to bite it, he cracks a tooth.

Unknown smashes its claw against the dens and snarls. Then it stalks off, Shiny Eye in tow. Pain Maker summons a slow procession of tiny hobbling creatures bound together by a gray vine. The tiny creatures each pick up a body and carry it away. They all leave the den.

 _What was that?_ he asks.

 _The big one calls it ‘training’,_ another pup explains, licking his wounds. _It wants us to fight._

 _Why?_ he asks.

 _Because it can,_ the pup replies.

 _What are they?_ he asks.

_I think they’re called…Skeksis?_

_Skeksis,_ he repeats. _I hate them._

 _We all do. But don’t try and attack them. You’ll die,_ the pup advises. _Especially the big one. An older whouf called him Beastmaster. The name fits him._

 _Beastmaster?_ He thinks over the term. It sounds better than Unknown. _Is there a way out?_

 _Yeah,_ the pup nods. _You succeed in the training…or you die. You win either way. Just depends on what you want to win._

 _My freedom,_ he replies.

 _Then you better die. That’s the only way you’ll get that,_ the pup says.

.o.o.o.o.

He misses his sister. His brothers are all dead. He has not seen Mother since he was brought here.

He is very lonely.

The training is relentless. It is the same course over and over, every single day. Race across the den from one black mark to the other. Survive the monsters and fire and falling rocks and swinging blades. Try not to die.

Because he isn’t ready to die. He wants to go home. He wants to see Mother.

He wants to live.

So he survives, growing faster and stronger with every race through the path of death. The course changes sometimes. He has to adapt every few races. Somehow, he has made it across the black mark every time.

Beastmaster has favorites among them. They get tender pieces of meat after races. Sometimes they even leave the den, attached to the Beastmaster by a vine. Some of these favorites leave the den and never come back. He wonders what happens to them.

He doesn’t know if he wants to be a favorite. He is scared of what might come after this.

.o.o.o.o.

There are other Skeksis besides Beastmaster, Shiny Eye, and Pain Maker. One is very powerful and even Beastmaster bows to it. This one is Leader, the other whouf pups tell him.

It has been several months since he started training. This is the first time he had seen other Skeksis beyond the three he was familiar with.

Leader is very loud and struts about, Beastmaster dogging its steps and barking as well. They don’t sound like they are fighting, though they are both very loud. With them are a few other big Skeksis, all barking loudly.

There are others that stay away from that crowd, passively watching from near the den entrance. One of them, a tall thing wearing red and black, moves between their gray dens and inspects the pups inside. It keeps making a strange whimpering sound that sets the fur of every pup on end in alarm.

He does not understand this reaction but stays away from the front of the den all the same.

With this whimpering Skeksis is another one that looks like it, only with long brown fur atop its head and a shiny silver claw on its paw that doesn’t match up with the rest of its long toes. Why is only one silver? The pups seem content to relax around this Skeksis. Some even slink to the front of their dens to yip and whine.

He also does not understand this reaction. Why do they cower from one Skeksis, yet pine for the attentions of another? It is all very strange, in his opinion.

Beastmaster is coming toward them. Both Skeksis shuffle away quickly to avoid it. Beastmaster opens the door of his den and barks, pointing to the black mark. The six pups, himself included, surge forth from the gray den and line up in front of the mark.

They have an audience this time. This is new. This is frightening.

Beastmaster bellows. The pups charge onto the path, leaping and dodging and running as fast as their paws let them.

There is a big difference. The rest of the obstacles are normal. What is abnormal is at the end.

One of the big monsters—an older pup called it a Garthim—stands on top of the black mark at the end of the path. It clicks and hisses and swings its claws. Every pup flies to a stop before reaching it, unsure of what to do.

 _Do we fight it? Kill it?_ a pup asks.

 _Let’s go around it,_ another suggests.

 _It’s too big. We can’t do either. This is how we die,_ a third growls bitterly.

 _Then we do everything and see what works,_ a fourth barks.

They charge as a unit. He hangs back, horribly on edge. This whole situation smells wrong. Why would the Beastmaster change the path like this? Was it trying to kill them?

Two pups are crushed in its claws, their bodies thrown aside like trash. A third tries to dive underneath and is stomped on by the spidery legs. The fourth and fifth launch an attack, only to retreat at the first swing of its huge claw. He tenses, unsure of what to do.

 _We can’t get around it and we can’t kill it,_ a pup barks.

 _What do we do?_ the second pup demands.

He suddenly falls on an idea. They cannot go under or around. They cannot attack either. So that leaves…

 _Up and over,_ he barks.

There’s no time to explain, only to demonstrate. He charges at the Garthim, leaping atop the claw that swings at him. Up, up, up and onto its back. The Garthim hisses, thrashing in an attempt to throw him off. So he turns and does something that instinct alone dictates.

He surges for the back of its rounded head and bites.

His teeth don’t do any damage. Its black shelling is too thick, but the impact of his body makes the Garthim stumble forward. It swings its claws wildly but cannot reach far enough to get to the back of its head. It has no way of dislodging the whouf that is trying to administer a kill bite.

Triumphant howls promise him that the other two made it past the Garthim. Now it is his turn.

Waiting until the claws pass overhead, he races up and over its back to leap to the ground. The Garthim thrashes and swings around, purple eyes flashing. The trio of whoufs huddles together past the black mark and growls. The Garthim lurches for them.

And stops the instant Beastmaster snarls at it.

The Garthim withdraws to the wall of the den and its eyes blink out into darkness. Beastmaster approaches them. The trio keep their hackles raised and teeth bared, though noticeably less so. Those that attacked Beastmaster died immediately.

Beastmaster barks a familiar sound. It had a sound designated for each whouf, though they did not really know what the sounds meant. It barks it again, red eyes fixated on him.

He steps forward. That was his sound designation. Beastmaster wants him.

Beastmaster clips a length of vine to his neck, which had a length of thick brown material wrapped around it. All of them have this material around their necks. It was how favorites were led away from the den, never to return.

Fear swallows him. Beastmaster had been treating him kindly as of late. He got strips of meat at times. He had done well. Was he a favorite now?

He wasn’t sure he wanted to be a favorite.

Sharp yelps made him jump, whipping around and pulling against the vine. His two fellows lay on the floor, blood oozing around them. Pain Maker stands above them with its painful weapon—a whip, if he recalled right. Pain Maker cackles before snapping the whip at the fallen pups, which whimper and struggle weakly to escape.

 _What are you doing? Stop!_ he barks, trying to race back to them, only to be pulled back by the pressure around his neck.

Beastmaster barks at him again and yanks the vine. He cannot run back to is fellows. The vine will not let him. He cannot save his den-mates.

Beastmaster’s smile is open wide as it barks to its fellows, yanking the vine to drag him forward. He cowers, spines rising in alarm. Every Skeksis is looking at him. The dying yelps of his fellows echo behind him. Fear and rage coil in his chest, waging a battle over what he should do next.

His eyes meet the eyes of the Skeksis from earlier. The one with the long brown fur. The one that the other whoufs liked. It looks so sad, flinching at every yelp from his fellows.

He doesn’t want this. Whatever being a favorite meant, he does not want it. So he does the only thing he can think of to escape it.

He turns around and attacks Beastmaster.


End file.
